


Getting Down to Business

by Friedcheesemogu



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Incubus!Jean, Jean's horny-as-balls life, M/M, Sex, an angry little gremlin, dick pills, retail witch!Marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:48:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21956167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Friedcheesemogu/pseuds/Friedcheesemogu
Summary: For the JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2019, from a prompt by"ChromeMist":Jean has certain aspirations for his shop. Marco is there to complicate things. In which Jean attempts to screw over Marco, however that screwing must be carried out.
Relationships: Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39
Collections: JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2019





	Getting Down to Business

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChromeMist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromeMist/gifts).



> So um...Merry Christmas (or Levimas, if you prefer)!
> 
> Although I really liked this prompt, writing it was an uphill battle, but I'll blame that on the soul-crushing exhaustion of working in holiday retail and the fact that I'm easily distracted by JeanMarco and their hot selves and often end up reading other people's fics instead of working on my own.
> 
> It's not beta'd, and I'm sorry for that! I'm hoping to be able to do a better run through on editing when I'm not racing the clock against enforced holiday cheer.
> 
> There's definitely fluff. Drama? Not exactly. Humor? I tried. But really there's just...sex all over this thing. I hope it meets with your approval in some fashion.

There’s a new shop that’s opening, and Jean is pissed about it. 

It’s not just that it looks like a bullshit pop-up that sells kitschy knock-offs (although that does play into it), or that it means potential competition in the already intense shopping district, but it’s the location: right across from the “Big Ass Teas,” the most popular cafe in the downtown area. It’s rumored that that the place is owned by an angry little gremlin, and said gremlin has connections with people high up in the Downtown Business Association, so it gets a say in whatever stores are near it.

Jean wanted that space when he opened his own store, but couldn’t even get a chance to plead his case in front of the gremlin. Jean’s little natural pharmacy ended up situated down a side street a few blocks away, and that would have been fine except now there’s this jackass who’s taken the prime real estate to sell crappy magical items and how is that fair? How did they get a chance at this spot but not Jean?

“He’s looking at the place across the street like he wants to burn it down with his mind again,” Sasha muses as Jean assumes his now common position of glaring at the shop over his tea.

“Stop trying to burn it down with your mind again, Jean,” Connie drawls, “We already know which one of us is the budding arsonist and it’s not you.”

“That was ONE time!” Eren half-squeals indignantly.

“Man, it was like three times,” Connie says, “Seriously.”

“Four times, actually,” murmurs Armin, poking at his phone calculator while he does the accounts for his bookshop. “And that’s assuming you leave out the incident in Bertholdt’s kitchen.”

“I put the fires out!” 

“You made them _worse!_ ”

Usually Jean is thrilled to engage in anything that involves annoying Eren, but right now he barely hears it, attention still focused on the offending storefront across from them. 

“Who the fuck do they think they are,” he grumbles for what has to be the fortieth time. “They probably fucked the gremlin to get the site.”

“Because you, Jean, are certainly one to judge other people for fucking for their own personal gain.” Sasha casually tries to steal his scone. Jean lifts the plate out of her reach.

“This is different!”

“How is it different?”

“Because when I did it, I…” Jean trails off, realizing he’s walked right into path of their most merciless teasing, and shuts up before he can get much farther.

“When he did it, it didn’t work.” Eren’s grin is broad and sharp and begging to be punched, but…

He’s not wrong.

“Fuck you, Eren.”

“HA! No, isn’t that the problem?”

“I swear to the Vishanti, not this again,” Armin shakes his head with a sigh. 

“I keep saying, Jean,” Sasha pats his hand, slyly reaching around Jean's back for his scone again, “Maybe you just didn’t sleep with the right member of the association. You could always try again?”

Jean scowls, cramming the whole scone into his mouth.

“Not like it matters anymore," he manages once he's swallowed, "Someone beat me to it.”

“But maybe like...they super suck?” suggests Sasha. “I mean, anyone can fuck a gremlin, but not everyone can fuck a gremlin and run a successful business.”

Connie muses “We don’t even know that he fucked the gremlin. There might be another way in.” 

Eren has tilted his chair onto its back legs, looking thoughtfully out the window. 

“Okay, but what if the secret is to not fuck the gremlin?”

“How does that make sense?” Sasha wrinkles her nose in confusion.

“Well everyone assumes that you gotta fuck the gremlin, but maybe the gremlin doesn’t want to be fucked? Maybe if you offer not to fuck the gremlin, then you get on his good side!”

“Can we stop saying ‘fuck the gremlin?’” Armin groans. 

“I’m just saying, though, that since he's a shitcubus, maybe Jean would have a better chance at-”

Eren has leaned his chair too far back and is suddenly tipping over, colliding with and jostling a passing customer so the guy loses hold of his beverage and dumps an entire large iced milk tea onto Eren’s face.

“My eyes! My beautiful eyes!” 

“Oh no!” The customer gasps, stepping back which only serves to send Eren’s chair the rest of the way down to the floor (which he hits with a noise something like "WARK!")  
“Oh no I am so, so sorry!”

Jean barks an unattractive laugh at Eren’s misfortune, then quickly wishes he’d never opened his mouth because the guy, who is now trying to help soggy Eren up, is incredibly hot.

Hot guy doesn’t seem to notice Jean, though. He’s trying to mop up some of his spilled drink on the table while Armin gently wipes at Eren's eyes.

“Holy shit, how much sugar is in this, it burns!”

Hot guy blushes deeply and is about to say apologize again, but Connie speaks up.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. Something explodes in Eren’s face once a week, if he didn’t have magical eyes he would have blinded himself years ago.”

“Still…” Hot guy hedges, biting his lip a little, and Jean inhales sharply. Shit this asshole has freckles and they should make a grown man look stupid, but they make him look stupidly _adorable,_ and he has...hair and a neck that looks extremely suck-on-able and it’s the first time in a long time that Jean’s wanted to turn his worse instincts all the way up on someone he’s just met. 

“Hey,” he says. Hot Guy looks up at him and Jean would swear his stomach cramps in arousal. “Let me buy you a replacement drink.”

“Ahh, you don’t have to do that, it’s my fault, I should have gotten a lid-”

“No no, seriously,” Jean stands up, grabbing the other man by the wrist. “You just made my entire week, I will happily get you whatever you want.”

Hot Guy looks a bit puzzled, maybe even a little wary about the potential malevolence of the group he’s just met, but relents. 

“...all right, sure.”

“Come on,” Jean flashes his best grin. “I’m Jean, I work a few blocks away.”

“I’m Marco,” Hot Guy says brightly, looking...well, hot, and Jean can almost taste him already. “I just bought the place across the street.”

Jean goes cold to the very tips of his hair.

“You-”

Sasha quickly covers her face with her hands. Connie looks away and tries to casually eat a cookie. Armin, for his part, plays it cool, but...then there’s Eren, who has never been known for his candor.

“ _You’re_ the one who bought the space? Man, my eyes feel better already!”

Jean thinks now would be an extremely good time to go play in traffic.

-

Jean Kirschtein is an incubus, a fact he mostly keeps the DL, because not everyone looks kindly on his race. Some people still think he’s going to come up and "eat" them without asking consent, which is just not true: it’s not the dark ages anymore, even the youngest incubi and succubi are taught that not everyone wants to be seduced by some rando while they’re going about their day. Some people don’t even want to be seduced at any time: so no is no is no, even if it means going without for long periods of time.

Through medication, sheer willpower, therapy, and about 15 minutes a day with his right hand, Jean was able to grow up without getting sex all over everything and everyone, and when he was finally out of school, business degree and Professional Garden Witch certificate in hand, attempt at adulthood and self-sufficiency underway, Jean decided it was okay to finally let himself lean into his true nature, except…

Okay so it’s not like he’s a total failure, he’s _had_ sex, it’s just never come as easily as it should, and it’s never been consistent. He’s perfectly capable of surviving from hook-up to hook-up, but honestly it gets obnoxious trying to track down and inexpertly woo someone when you’re already tired and hungry and desperate. 

Jean feels like he’s always tired and hungry and desperate lately, and although he likes his shop, he likes using his talent with herbs and plants to create an honest living… sometimes he thinks maybe he should have just become a cheap stripper. He’s definitely not above using physicality as collateral to get what he wants; there are always people who want to check banging an incubus or succubus off their bucket list, and sometimes those people happen to let it slip that they’re part of an association where Jean needs an in, so maybe there could be perks to a weekend of wild fornication other than sating Jean's appetite for a good while. 

Fuck the gremlin, though, fuck the entire Downtown Business Association that apparently Milieus Zermulsky has no clout in, because dammit, that was some good sex, and dammit, Jean deserved -if not free pass to the good downtown locations- someone who would at least be a regular lay instead of acting a tool and totally bailing on him because being with an incubus is “too intense” and blah blah stamina and whine whine “I don’t want to have to change my sheets so much.” Ugh.

Anyway, that was months ago.

So at 28 years old, Jean has found himself a small business owner rudely denied prime retail real estate who is touch-starved and horny basically all the time, without even an easy booty call for the nights when his own remedies don’t work and he lies in bed shaking and needy, unfairly alone.

Really, fuck the gremlin. And Eren and Milieus too, just for good measure.

-

A few days later, Jean is sitting at the register sulkily leafing through a catalog of herbal must-haves for the coming season. He’s starving. He’s bitter, trying to pretend he doesn’t want to march over to unfairly attractive location-stealing “Marco” and demand that he bend Jean over his counter and uh… agree swap their leases. He’s bored, too, because it’s been slow today and Sasha has been terrible at keeping up with their “Words With Friends” game and he’s still too irritated with Eren to suggest he and Armin come over to hang out until teatime.

The doorchime goes off, but Jean doesn’t bother raising his head. Usually at this time of day it’s bratty kids in search of air conditioning or some weirdo who’ll want to rummage through his stuff hoping for something they can use to get high or ask awkward questions about the few locally-sourced aphrodisiacs he sells. Jean wonders if that stuff would do better if more of those if he advertised he's a legit sex demon, but worries that it would just highlight the fact that he goes without much more than he’d like.

Anyway, until whoever came into the store is ready to cough up some money, Jean feels no need to engage.

“So uh,” a male voice inquires, “What exactly are ‘dick pills?’”

Jean scoffs.

“What the hell do you think? Dick pills are pills. For your dick.”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Do they work? Sure, you’ll have an enormous penis and you’ll totally love it, I guarantee.”

“That’s not-”

“Just be careful, if you use it wrong, the growing effects might continue for seven years.”

“Seven years? That’s... that sounds pretty terrible, actually.”

“Mm,” Jean shrugs, already tired of this conversation. “Then don’t use it without proper supervision of your local Garden Witch.”

“...so you’re saying, don’t use it unless you’re around?”

The voice now has a teasing lilt, and Jean looks up: the person holding the bottle of Dick Pills(TM) is Marco-the-shop-thief who is still stupid sexy and has no right to be slightly taller than Jean, broader in the chest, with those dumbass freckles and a nice smile and shoulders that are just begging to be chewed. 

“I…” Jean can’t stop staring. “What?”

“I assume you’re a Garden Witch.” Marco smiles. “Do you supervise all dick pill usage?”

The jerk is fucking flirting with him. That incredibly arousing _asshole._

“I dunno,” Jean sits up a little straighter, trying to assume a posture of cool aloofness. “Usually if you need dick pills, it means you’re lacking something, and I’m not interested.”

Marco laughs and sets down the bottle, walking up to the counter.

“You’re very blunt.”

Jean shrugs, unable to tear his eyes away.

“It is what it is, man, there’s only so much you can pretend when you’re buying any kind of ‘enhancement.’ I go for honesty in my business.” Yeah, right; his own dick already straining in his pants is only the first piece of evidence against him, but this wet-dream douchebag doesn’t need to know that.

“I like that.” Marco says before extending his hand. “I know we kind of met the other day, but I’m Marco, again. Marco Bodt. I just moved my shop here from Jinae, and I’m trying to get in good with the other local business owners.”

Jean immediately wants to suggest that Marco might do well to get in good with Jean’s ass, but wait that’s a terrible idea because he hates this dude, and hatesex is not his bag. At least...not while he’s on the clock and trying to operate a respectable business. 

“I’m Jean,” he takes the offered hand anyway, suppressing a shudder when he notices it’s just very slightly bigger than his own and... strong And warm. “Welcome to the Stohess Shopping District.”

“Thank you,” Marco grins, unfairly pulling his hand away instead of letting Jean continue to hold it and maybe put it in his mouth. “It’s a really nice area.” He looks down for a moment, a little bit bashful. Jean could just die. “So um...yeah, I do object enchantments and reselling, so if you ever need anything like that...”

“Neat,” Jean hears himself chirp like an idiot and instantly wants to dive into the nearest dumpster.

The conversation falters there, and Marco stuffs his hands in his pockets, making Jean want to whimper a little.

“Anyway, um... Yeah, I was just saying hi. And stuff.”

“Hi.”

“I should... you’re probably busy, I should get back to my own place, there’s still a lot of stuff to set up.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, it’s... yeah, I totally have stuff to do before I lock up for the day,” Jean lies, more than ready to just jump the guy right here, business hours and not getting literally (deliciously) reamed by your competition be damned. “I’ll uh...come check your place out in the next few days.”

“I’d like that,” Marco’s voice is warm, so warm, _too_ warm. “I’ll see you later then, Jean.”

As he starts to walk away, Jean tries to to play it smooth and sassy.

“Hey, since you’re new here, I’m willing to give you a discount on the dick pills if you want.”

Marco turns with a little laugh, slightly pink high in the cheeks.

“Thanks for the offer,” he says. “But I don’t really think I need them.”

“Oh? Cocky a bit much?” 

“Well yeah,” Marco winks, “And I don’t need seven years to prove it.”

Jean is still sputtering for what to say several minutes after the door has shut.

Shit.

-

The idea is obvious enough enough: he may not have the most game (especially since he’s been going through a dry spell and everything feels rusty) but he’s a grown-ass sexpot, he can put aside moral rectitude for the sake of commerce and seduce Marco out of his lease. Jean may not win the "World's Most Alluring Incubus" award, but Marco had flirted with him, and shamelessly. Okay, maybe he’s just the type who talks like that to anyone, but he couldn’t have known Jean was an incubus and therefore wouldn’t expect to get incubized for fun and (Jean’s) profit.

Initially, Jean tries to be subtle. He puts on his tightest jeans and best "I am totally normal and not here to seduce you" cologne and goes over to check out Marco’s shop. The endeavor fails almost immediately: not only is Marco physically attractive, but he’s smart and funny and he smells distractingly appetizing. He talks with his hands and when he takes Jean in back to show him the enchantment he’s currently working on, Jean has to physically restrain himself from just straight up licking him. 

Afterwards, he’s no closer to getting the property or figuring out if Marco is sweet and hot with everyone. Jean realizes he’s going to have to play the long game, which has never been his forte, but he’s convinced that his life might actually end if he doesn’t get Marco’s hands on him, er that is... Marco’s... location on his own... business mission statement, right.

So he goes back the next day. 

And the day after that.

And then Marco comes to his store over the lunch hour and they start chatting about everything and nothing, and when they end up going out after work and not having sex but talking for hours, Jean... doesn’t really mind all that much. Eventually, almost every morning Marco stops by with some kind of sweet and a drink from “Big Ass Teas,” which is great because that means Jean's getting Marco right where he wants him (or Marco is fucking the gremlin for tea favors, and that’s it’s own weird kind of hot). Jean has started to set aside specific ingredients from his stock that can be used to amplify some of Marco’s enchantments, and Marco is always adorably grateful. By the end of the summer, when fall is finally starting to creep up in with red leaves and hints of frost, Jean realizes that he and Marco have become friends. 

And that sucks. 

Because of course Jean has never mentioned his true nature to Marco. Marco is kind (and beautiful and clever and-) enough that he probably wouldn’t care what Jean is, and would still want to see him regardless, but Jean feels increasingly guilty about his plan to charm the pants and lease off him. Marco is still flirtatious and playful with him, but he’s never made any kind of move on him. Sure, Jean could try to ramp it up, pull out all the sexy stops and get himself the spot and maybe a good few hours in the sack. But… it turns out that sinister retail plan or not, Jean genuinely enjoys being with Marco. As much as he’d give to give it up to Marco, he knows that not all friendships survive sex, and if Marco isn’t actually interested in him, if he realizes Jean has been trying to play him this whole time in the hopes of something physical and conveniently close to a popular cafe, he might bail, which is… well, Jean doesn’t like thinking about it. 

Some Marco is better than no Marco, so Jean takes his own supplements to subdue his increasingly ravenous sex drive. He considers asking Marco to make him a specific enchantment of “not constant horniness,” but there’s no way he could request something like that without arousing Marco’s curiosity (if not actually Marco himself) and he’d blow the whole thing. It’s incredibly frustrating. More than once Jean considers just giving in and going out to find someone, anyone, but every time he gets close to a pick-up, they just don’t have that special Marco-ness that Jean finds so appetizing. He doesn’t just want to “dine and dash” anymore, he wants to be have regular, satiating sex with someone he likes to talk with (Marco); someone who won’t bang his skinny ass out of pity because he badly needs fix (Marco); Someone who’d maybe like to… to see beyond the sex demon thing (and the whole “I started this to totally double cross you out of your livelihood”), and stay the whole night (Marco... he thinks). Leave it to Jean to be the one incubus out of thousands who is apparently a secret romantic so every attempt at anyone who isn’t Marco falls apart until Jean feels like he’s starting to fall apart, all plans to screw Marco in various ways out the window.

“You’re kind of pale, lately,” Marco muses one day over a shared chocolate croissant at "Big Ass Teas." “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jean brushes it off. “Just a little under the weather.”

Marco hums thoughtfully and before Jean can react has put his hand on Jean’s forehead.

“You don’t feel warm, but-”

Jean can’t help shuddering, pushing himself into Marco’s touch like a needy kitten and -to his total horror- moaning a little. Marco jerks his hand back in surprise, leaving Jean leaning forward like an idiot and feeling incredibly bereft.

“...Jean?” Marco’s voice is tentative.

“Fuck,” Jean replies helpfully, curling back into himself and looking everywhere Marco isn’t. He can feel the longing, embarrassed flush that rushes through his entire body and can’t help thinking that he probably feels pretty warm now. “I uh…sorry, I just…”

Marco considers him with a frown for a moment before reaching for him again. His fingers graze and lift Jean’s chin, making him shiver again with arousal and shame; Jean squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep from melting into him again because if he does... if he gets even the slightest bit closer to Marco, Jean’s not sure he’ll be able to hold himself back.

“Marco,” he starts, ready to lay it all down and run out the door forever, but then Marco kisses him. 

It’s delicate and quick, hardly anything, but Jean is nothing short of shocked, going completely still while he tries to process exactly what’s happening.

“Was that... all right?” Marco asks softly as he pulls back, and Jean can taste the words, a little searching, a little scared, absolutely devastatingly delicious. 

Jean forces his eyes away, trying to steady himself. It’s probably the hardest thing he’s ever done, but he needs to be honest, he needs Marco to know what he’s getting into before they get too carried away with... whatever this is going to be.

“Marco,” he repeats, feeling more and more desperate. “I need to… You should... I…” _Get it out,_ he tells himself, but since all his brainpower is currently rapidly progressing downwards, what he says is “I didn’t fuck the gremlin.” 

What the hell?!

“I mean,” Jean watches Marco’s expression turn from fond to concerned, “I didn’t... I tried to? I mean, no, I didn’t try to, just I… I wanted the spot across the street and thought maybe I could get it by sleeping with someone in the association, but I did it wrong, and I thought you fucked the gremlin, so-” 

Marco’s face now reads as “yeah you definitely did _something_ wrong and it was probably being born at all.” Jean is drenched in a nervous sweat and the precome leaking out of his throbbing, guilty erection, trying to put words together into a way that makes sense and doesn’t involve continuing to use variations of “fuck the gremlin.”

“Okay,” Jean makes himself take a deep, nauseating breath. “I wanted the space across the street. We -Connie and Sasha and fuckface and Armin- we’ve like… talked about how to get it. How maybe you traded sexual favors for it, which is fine, I guess, because I would have traded sexual favors for it because I’m an incubus so that’s kind of a thing and I’ve been trying to... to make you want me so we could trade more sexual favors and I could have your storefront.”

He feels like he should drop to his knees and beg Marco to try to understand his position, but then he would be in a different position, and that position would be with his head at crotch-level and-

“Jean,” Marco finally says, doing the most outrageous thing ever and taking one of Jean’s hands in his own. “I know.”

For once, it’s not the wonderful, amazing idea of Marco’s skin but his words that derail Jean. 

“Bwuh?” 

“I know you’re an incubus, Jean. And I know you wanted the storefront. I admit to hoping that there was a little more to it, but-”

“Wait wait wait. What? How?”

Marco shrugs.

“Eren told me a few days after we met. He said you were an incubus incredibly thirsty for good store location and probably also my ass, so you might try to use your ‘shitty wiles’ to bone me out of my space.”

Jean is going to have to kill Eren in the messiest, most disgusting way possible, but only after he picks his jaw up out of the fucking basement. 

“So you… knew?”

“Mmhmm,” Marco is starting to smile, “So I came over to your store to see, you know, if that’s really what you’re about, and got distracted by dick pills.”

“Dick pills,” Jean stammers.

“Yeah,” Marco raise an eyebrow, “I hear that dick pills are pills for your dick and the effect goes on for seven years.”

Jean groans, moving to put his face in his hands before realizing that Marco is actually still holding one of them and the idea of letting go is suddenly more horrifying than any version of fucking the gremlin.

“Yeah. But no. I mean. It’s not true. The dick pills aren’t, they don’t last for seven years, I made that up but I was really planning... that is, I did, I was going to... I was planning on, you know, tricking you into screwing me and your lease, but-” Jean sputters to a stop and hangs his head, knowing that everything is fucked: himself, the gremlin, this whole situation. “It was shitty thing to try to do, it was playing exactly into my stereotype, but... fuck, I’m a monster.”

“You’re not, though,” Marco leans forward, face dangerously close to Jean’s, eyes sparkling in a way that just about makes him explode from sheer desire. “You’re an incubus who is dedicated to succeeding in his business, which... there’s nothing wrong with that, really, and you’re honestly pretty adorable.”

“But-”

“I like you,” Marco’s nose brushes his slightly, “And if you were really a monster who wanted to ruin my life, you had plenty of chances to do it. But instead you let me buy you treats and spend time with you without ever making a single. Damn. Move.”

Jean emits a sound like a hair dryer being consumed by a lawn mower. He’s melting into fragments of hope and devastatingly brutal arousal that is very shortly going to get them kicked out of the cafe if not straight up arrested. 

“Y-yeah? You mean...” Shaking now, Jean licks his lips, forces the plaintive hunger out of his voice. “You want to, uh…”

“Well I don’t want to give you my excellent shopping location, but I’ve been waiting for you to try to seduce me out of it, and I have to admit I've gotten impatient.” He brushes their noses together on purpose cutely, and it’s the sexiest thing Jean has ever felt in his life. “So... are you gonna keep me waiting, or do you want to have some intense negotiations somewhere private?”

“Yeah,” Jean sighs, helpless with lust and adoration. “Yeah I think we need to definitely need to do that like right now.”

Several hours later, they stop briefly because Marco is only human, and cuddle together in a mess of sweaty, sticky sheets.

“Ah, shit,” Marco murmurs into Jean’s hair, “We should have stopped by your place for some dick pills.”

“No,” Jean laughs a little, dizzy with delight. He stretches against his former retail rival lazily, no longer feeling tired and desperate and hungry but warm and almost unbearably full of Marco and satisfaction. “Fuck the gremlin and fuck them, you were right, you don’t need them. You really, really don’t need them.”

Marco kisses him again, and break time is over.

-

Three months later, the storefront across the street from “Big Ass Teas” reopens as the Stohess shopping district’s number one source for magical items, enchantments, herbal remedies and dick pills. And if it bothers people that the place keeps slightly weird hours because the store owners are often all over each other, then, well. Fuck the gremlin and all that.

**Author's Note:**

> If I had a dollar for every time I want to insert "Dick pills are pills. For your dick," into conversation I would be rich. Richer than astronauts.
> 
> And yes, once I wrote "fuck the gremlin" I decided it needed to be said as much as possible. I hope that was okay. I'm easily amused. >.>;;
> 
> Again, Merry/Happy Everything, I hope you have a wonderful holiday and thanks so much to the JMGE mods (especially Flecksofpoppy) for letting me be a part of it and putting up with frantic middle-of-the-night texts.
> 
> SNK forever and always. 
> 
> <3


End file.
